


After, in the dark

by catbuttermargerine



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Absence, Daemon Hunting, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mutual Pining, One Shot, POV Second Person, Sleep, duty comes first, passing mention of vague sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbuttermargerine/pseuds/catbuttermargerine
Summary: It's hard to leave when your return can't be guaranteed.For Cor and Iris, duty comes before all else. Cor's never been wary of his own death, but Iris' is a different question. Each hunt brings with it its own risk, and life seems more painfully, obviously fragile when it's her life on the line.Set during the long night.





	After, in the dark

_I may lose you._  
_Saying that, life became hard_

_Yoko Kanno - After, in the dark_

* * *

 

Contrary to popular belief, the third night of a deployment was always the hardest.

The first night you were too tired from early muster, bones sore from shouldering packs and throwings about weights. You’d roll out your bedding, grateful for the peaceful floor of a Haven and the warmth of bodies around you. I’d always slept alone, but you couldn’t imagine a night without noise and bustle, the quiet breaths of the living surrounding you. Drink a quick supper of hot, thin soup to quell your hunger before slipping under parachute silk to sleep.

The second night was harder, but different. You were wired the whole day; shadows that had you scrabbling for your combat knife would be nothing more than a fleet of mammals, intent on their crossing. The hyraxes know their place. When it came time to bed down, your hands shake as they cup your mug of bone broth, despite the safety of the sacred ground you sleep on. Your ears never quite shut out the sounds that turn into groans like rusted metal, scraping against itself as it untwists from a Mobius strip into a fully-formed giant.

By the third night your brain was used to the road, aware of the darkness and filtering out the things that didn’t matter. You knew now that imps would bother you with little more than sharp claws scratching on stone and querulous little squeaks; a flash of firelight was more danger. Three red giants would deplete your stock of curatives and your reserves of men; I try to give you extra of both.

On that night you settle, your body exhausted and begging for rest. You stretch out your long white bones and look up at a sky too tight, trying to remember what stars used to be there. There was once a Hunter, I suppose our patron, with a star at his ankle so bright that it looked blown out, and it would take a while to see the rest of his body form in the gaps between the lights. You complained, once, that the lights of Lestallum made it too hard to stargaze. _Light pollution_ , you called it.

There is a vacuum of communication when you’re hunting. Coverage was patchy at best across much of the continent, before the dark. Now with nobody maintaining the masts there’s swathes of areas with total blackouts. We rely on radio more than ever, leaning on a network of rusting repeaters that we pray are functional. Your messages pass up the chain to me, essence of Iris diluted but nonetheless _you_ :

_Slough OK. 8 of 8 men with us, no losses._

_Stores repleted._

_View not bad._

_Miss you._

I respond to you, hoping that the repeating station remains secure with just a hunter or two to care for it. _Return to me safely._

We joke sometimes that being _out there_ is like being in space, but there’s some truth to it. Cornered by a suffocating darkness that never eases into twilight, cut off completely from civilisation, and surrounded by the unknown. The daemons don’t evolve, or can’t, we think, but reports of increasing grotesqueries imply they can breed.

On the third night, neither you nor I sleep. I feel a taut pull on my heart, like there’s a thread sewn between you and I that’s stretched beyond it’s limit. I clutch a fist to my chest to ease it, and hope you aren’t suffering the same. I wait for you in the dark.

When you return, weeks later, whole and complete, I avoid seeking you out.  I allow you your space, never sure if your return to me is willing. But then, we are both two ends of the same night. You hunt and find me waiting for you in our office, waiting to be claimed; the door locks behind you. Your body is networked by cuts and bruises. I take my time, fingers and mouth mapping the territory of your skin. I kiss new scars; they no longer bother you. Each one is a measure of time: years of parting, surviving, and coming home. In my deference, I kneel before you. You are my captain and my Queen. My thumbs bruise your hips.

Our duty keeps us busy, each small flare up part of a greater fire. One rare night together and I’m pulled away from you yet again. I deploy in two hours. In half-sleep you cling to me with a strength you hide from most - you’re Amicitia after all, your body is made for power and stamina - and I almost consider treason if it means a few hours more. I kiss your shoulder and you draw me into you, legs crossed at the small of my back and thighs squeezing my sides. We say goodbye this way each time, a small and private ceremony.  

I have thirty years on you, but that’s no protection from the truth: I may lose you. We spend our off days, the times our schedules are synchronised, pretending this life isn’t precarious. _I don’t know what you eat  when I’m gone,_ you say, bent over a cauldron. The fire lights you from beneath, and your nose scrunches up  when I tell you: _I eat for nourishment, not for enjoyment._ Over dinner, we name our children. _It’s for_ _later_ , we tell each other, never knowing when that later will come. It already feels like we’ve been stretching our time too thin.

After, in the dark, you whisper to me. _I’m so tired_.

There’s no truth I can tell you that will make this better; I’m exhausted too. The only thing to keep me going is my duty to Lucis and to you. I respond to you the same way I always do. _Just a little longer._

**Author's Note:**

> Title and opening quote is from Yoko Kanno's "After, in the dark ~ torch song", an insert song from Macross Plus.


End file.
